Life on the Gold Coast Pt. VII / November 20, 2017 by Kevin Huang

Part VII.

Epilogue:

Time is Up

As epic as that previous week was, it was the beginning of the end.

We got a couple more swells, and I spent more than a handful of days doing nothing but inhaling food, sleeping, and surfing. But deep down, I knew something was changing. After a two week run of perfection, things started to slow down again.

Eventually, a hurricane hit in late March, flooding parts of Queensland and NSW. With it came the cold. The ocean became yellow and brown due to the runoff from the hurricane and water visibility dropped to nothing. The water got so cold I had to take my wetsuit out again.

During this time, I also saw my girlfriend for the last time. Surfing had allowed me to distract myself from the reality of the situation, but as the swell dropped and the cold hit, it slowly dawned on me that I wasn’t ever going to see her again.

Indo teasers.  Basically this was blowing up my Insta feed during my last weeks in Oz.  I ended up taking this photo a month later in Indo.  A little preview of what was to come... — *Indo teasers. Basically this was blowing up my Insta feed during my last weeks in Oz. I ended up taking this photo a month later in Indo. A little preview of what was to come...*

During the last few weeks I had begun to see pictures surfacing from around various locations in Indo, teasing my Instagram feed with shots of perfect, empty waves. The early season swells had begun to hit, and the crowds hadn’t caught on yet. With the Superbank firing on all cylinders, my lust for waves was kept in check, but as the swell and the water temps dropped, the call to leave Oz for Indo became inescapable. My Visa was running out as well, and I was going to have to leave the country to renew my Visa anyway, so the call to leave for Indo became unavoidable. When two of my Slovenian roommates moved out of the house, I knew beyond a doubt that the time had come.

The Indo quiver.  From left to right:  [The all arounder/pointbreak machine.  The fish.  The step-up/gun.  The go-to shortboard.] — *The Indo quiver. From left to right:* [The all arounder/pointbreak machine. The fish. The step-up/gun. The go-to shortboard.]

And so with a heavy heart, I packed my bags, sent off one last message to my now ex, and hopped on a plane bound for Kuala Lumpur, the first leg on my journey to Indo, – alone.

To this day, I still can’t really put my finger on why we broke up. As usual, I spent a lot of time trying to work out why. I kept going over all of our conversations and texts with a fine toothed comb trying to find some shred of a clue, but the more I thought about it, the more complicated things became. There were many possible answers, all valid, but the more I thought about it, the simple answer which she had given me when we last spoke was more than enough. She just felt like she needed to be alone.

The more and more that I think about it, the more and more that I respect her for it.

Prepped for Indo.  This lasted me about 3 weeks. — *Prepped for Indo. This lasted me about 3 weeks.*

I can’t really say much except that the woman who I had reconnected with on the Gold Coast was not the same woman I had met in the jungle. Deep down, she was still in there somewhere, but her return to “the real world” had brought up some ghosts of her past, and she was in a place where she needed to take care of them on her own. As much as I wished I could help her, I had been in her shoes once, and I knew that introspection is something that at times, needs to be undertaken alone.

Thinking back on the whole situation though, I couldn’t even fault her for anything. I’ve had messy breakups in the past, but this time, she stayed true to her word and we both peacefully went our separate ways. I can’t thank her enough for that. She was undoubtedly a special little human. Without a doubt I will love that woman till the day that I die.

And with that final loose end taken care of and nothing holding me back, I hopped on a plane and took off to Indo. The adventure I had waited my whole life for was about to begin...

And that concludes the Gold Coast chapter. If you're itching to find out what happens next, don't worry.... I don't know when I'll drop it, but you can look forward to the Indo chapters sometime in the near future. Until then, if you want a little sneak preview into what happened during my time in Indo, check this article .

Thanks for reading guys! I really do appreciate the love and support. Stay tuned for more soon!

INDO

Life on the Gold Coast INDEX

PART I [ THE BEGINNING ]

Life on the Gold Coast Pt. VI / November 17, 2017 by Kevin Huang

Part. VI

The Beast Awakens

As soon as I got a look at the ocean I knew the swell had arrived.

The beach which for the last month had looked no different than the side of a lake was now delivering line after line of ruler edged perfection. For an entire mile I rode my bike along the beach towards the head of Snapper rocks, and for an entire mile I saw waves stacked to the horizon. If I had not seen it with my own two eyes I would have never believed it. Where there were once no waves, there were now waves that seemingly defied the laws of physics. People were getting barreled for over 100 yards. It didn’t seem real.

For a few minutes all I could do was stare and hoot as I saw chargers pull into perfect azure caverns. My mouth grew dryer with every passing second as each successive wave that broke in front of me crushed my sense of reality. I had been surfing for nearly a decade and I had never seen anything like this. These were without a doubt some of the best waves I had ever seen in my entire life.

Eventually, my eagerness overcame my awe and I quickly locked my bike up, grabbed my surfboard and made my way out into the lineup. Just as I was about to reach the lineup a set came and broke right in front of me. The last thing I saw before a perfect double overhead screamer crashed down on top of me was Jack Freestone pulling into a giant tube. His wetsuit jacket was unzipped and it fluttered in the wind as he flew down the face of the wave. Yup, it was on.

Gabriel Medina

Gabriel Medina

That set thwarted my first attempt to paddle out and washed me down the beach, causing me to miss the entry point. The current was ripping super hard. In about 5 minutes I had gone from Snapper all the way to Coolangatta. I decided to cut my losses, get out, and do another lap to the top of Snapper. On this second attempt, I made it out.

Owen Wright

Sitting in the lineup was sort of like going to a Hollywood movie premiere for the first time. The lineup was filled with people who I clearly recognized but had never met in person. Pro surfers on tour, freesurfers, and random surf industry people who I had seen on the internet were all around me in the lineup. I spent half the time out in the water just staring in awe at pros making waves that didn’t seem possible. Guys were taking off behind the groin at Snapper – a feat which surely would have killed a mere mortal - and not only making the wave but getting insanely barreled. I ended up sitting further down the line, and when my turn finally came, I whipped it, paddled, dropped in, and was engulfed in a full on tube before (of course) someone dropped in on me and the wave closed out. But it was a start. For the next 6 hours I proceeded to pull into waves I had only dreamed of. The crowd and the tide came, and went, and then came again, and I was still there. The waves were just too good. I don’t even remember how many laps I did from Kirra back to Snapper. I must have spent almost as much time walking back up the point than actually surfing it.

Never in my life had I ever seen anything like it. Each wave I caught was longer than any other wave I had ever surfed – point breaks included. The wave looked like a point, but surfed like a beachie. It was the weirdest feeling. It was like the best of both worlds. The length and never ending ride of a point mixed with the speed, and power of a beach break.

For three days the swell continued. Funnily enough, even though I’m a surf photographer, I didn’t take any pictures until the third day. The waves were so good I couldn’t bring myself to stop surfing long enough to even grab my camera. While the pictures I snagged from this swell are good, conditions were nowhere near as good as the first two days. But then again, there was already plenty of coverage from the horde of surf photographers there. There was no need for me to document anything. Besides, I was on vacation.

The swell came just in time, as the Quicksilver pro ended up being the following week. Because of this, every pro was in the water at some point during that swell getting ready for the contest to come. I spent one afternoon just taking pictures at Snapper. That session was a goldmine. Roughly half of the guys I grew up watching in surf movies were shredding right in front of me in the space of a single afternoon. It was one of the trippiest experiences of my life.

The following week, for the contest, we got another round of swell, slightly smaller but just as epic. The waves were smaller, but the conditions were arguably better, and the crowd lightened up (since everyone was at the contest). Ironically, I didn’t even watch a single heat of the Quickie pro. The waves were so good I ended up surfing another spot and getting tubed the entire time. There was one session in particular - the water was perfect, silver reflective glass, like ichor, and barrel after barrel was coming through with only a handful of guys out. The only sound was the pitter patter of light rain hitting the water, the spray of offshore wind, and the loudspeaker from the Quickie pro announcing heat results far off in the distance.

I heard some guys complaining that they should have run the contest the previous week since the waves were better. One of their friends overhead and interjected- if they had, the locals wouldn’t have gotten a chance to surf it. He was right. Sometimes, things work out exactly as they should.

[to be continued...]

FINAL PART [ VII ]

Life on the Gold Coast INDEX

Life on the Gold Coast Pt. V / November 16, 2017 by Kevin Huang

Part V.

Omens

Looking back on it, it was undoubtedly a stroke of fate that I ended up living close to Snapper Rocks. I had come to the Gold Coast for reasons other than surf, and I hadn’t even bothered to do any research on any of the waves before I arrived. I really only ended up living in Coolangatta because the rent was decent, my girlfriend was there, and I got lucky (see Pt. III lol).

However, after I got settled and my mind shifted to thoughts other than survival, I finally started paying attention to the surf.

Yup.  That was the very one. — Yup. That was the very one.

The most obvious omen that there were good waves around the area was the massive poster of Jack Freestone threading a massive drainer pinned up on the side of Kirra Surf Shop, which just so happened to be down the street from my house. The photo was literally taken at the beach right across the street from the surf shop (although it took me a while to put two and two together).

My Slovenian roommates (mostly the Vegan fitness instructor) would constantly complain about how the waves were shit (despite weeks upon weeks of beautiful A frame runners at D-bah). But, if you offered them a little sympathy, they would sometimes start reminiscing about the times when there was good swell. After complaining about how they should have stayed in Indo for another few weeks, stories of perfect double overhead tubes running from Snapper Rocks all the way through Kirra began to surface. Whispers of lines stacked to the horizon, with enough waves to appease the hordes of frothing surfers began to stir and tease my imagination.

Hoax?  Source: glassy.pro — Hoax? *Source:* *glassy.pro*

I would usually go surfing after hearing these stories. I would almost always pass by Snapper on my way to surf Dbah, and it would always be about ankle high.

I would stare at the waves for a bit, squinting at the ocean in the hope of coaxing the sea to send a good wave through, but that never seemed to work. However, even on the smallest of days, when out of desperation people would whip out their SUP’s in order to catch SOMETHING, it seemed like there was always a little something to ride. But, for the most part, the wait continued. Hilariously, even with the ankle biters, Snapper Rocks was still crowded. My doubts that I would ever see this wave break properly started to grow.

I mean.... it's not bad.... but it's not SNAPPER ROCKS if you know what I mean — I mean.... it's not bad.... but it's not *SNAPPER ROCKS* if you know what I mean

The days wore on, and I slowly started getting fed up with all of the hordes of aggro surfers endlessly dropping in on me at Dbah and my patience started to grow thin.

On the home front, things started to grow complicated as well. My girlfriend was getting busier and busier at work and it was getting more and more difficult to find time to hang out with her. Eventually the tension between us reached a tipping point and we got into an argument. By this time, the girl who I had met in the jungle was almost nonexistent. The lust for life which had come so easily to her when we lived simply in the jungle together, had been buried deep down by the soul crushing responsibilities of “reality.” Ironically, living together in the jungles of Central America felt a thousand times more real than the “reality” of the concrete jungle we now lived in. But of course, imagine how hard it was to try and convince her of that. God, but despite the struggles, I still remember how good she looked in her workout outfit as she stood in the driveway with a big frown on her face. It was torture.

It was at this moment that the swell finally decided to intervene.

I hadn’t even bothered to check the forecast due to the stress she was causing me. But, that next morning, with the renewed vigor to surf that only a fight with your girlfriend can bring you, I woke up to a Gold alert on Surfline. And when I checked the cam on swellnet the Superbank was absolutely cranking. CRANKING. And if you can tell it’s cranking on the trash quality cam feed then you KNOW it’s on.

Within record time my bike was packed. I didn’t even bother to bring anything, I just put my boardies and my rashie on, strapped the board to the rack and hopped on my bike. There were still huge conspicuous gobs of white sun screen lathered on my face but I didn’t care. At that moment all that mattered was the sea.

[to be continued...]

PART VI

Life on the Gold Coast INDEX

Life on the Gold Coast Pt. IV / November 14, 2017 by Kevin Huang

Part IV.

DURANBAH

Slotted.  Typical day at D-bah. — *Slotted. Typical day at D-bah.*

Dbah was the only wave on the Gold Coast that was working the first three weeks I was there, so that’s all that I surfed.

From my house on Binya Avenue in Coolangatta, Kirra was a 2 minute bike ride from my front door. Snapper was probably about 8 minutes, and D-bah was probably 10.

Currumbin Alley was about a 35 minute bike ride if I rode fast, Burleigh was about an hour and fifteen, and Straddie was about a 2 hour trek. I never got to surf Straddie though unfortunately.

For the first month that I was there, there wasn’t enough swell for the machine-like points that the Gold Coast is known for to start working, so I surfed the only place within biking distance that had any solid swell – Duranbah.

Life was good. I would wake up every day and check the forecast. If it was good, I would surf. If it was pumping, within 5 minutes of checking the cam on Swellnet, I would have all of my beach supplies packed into my backpack, my board strapped onto my bike rack, and I’d be walking out the door on my way to the beach.

Not a bad alternative.

Water color was insane.

The trusty steed.  Buying a car was too expensive and didn't make sense, so I ended up just buying a bicycle.  Don't be fooled, the surf rack was held on with duct tape and prayers. — *The trusty steed. Buying a car was too expensive and didn't make sense, so I ended up just buying a bicycle. Don't be fooled, the surf rack was held on with duct tape and prayers.*

Aside from feeding myself, I literally had no other responsibilities. For the first time in my entire life I was able to pass endless hours at the beach with absolutely no one waiting on me for weeks on end. It’s a really special feeling being able to sit out in the lineup with absolutely no pressure to leave perfect waves in order to go to work. Even when I was surf guiding in Nicaragua, spending 10 hour days in the ocean, I was still waiting on the guests. We still had to surf the breaks that they wanted to. Oz was the first time that I had complete freedom. If the surf was pumping, I’d be pulling six hour sessions, surfing until the point that I felt that if I kept surfing any longer, I would definitely tear or pull a muscle. I would hilariously surf through multiple tides swings on some days. It was epic.

*Yeah, you wouldn't get out either if it looked like this.*

I was there in the late summer, early fall. The days were bright and sunny, the water was still warm, its color a magically beautiful aqua, and the underwater visibility was unreal. Almost every single day, you could see the sand on the bottom of any beach, 6, 10, even 15 feet below you. On the Gold Coast, even with a population of a half a million, both the land and the ocean seemed virgin.

The first month was very peaceful. It was simple, and nice. Living without any obligations or responsibilities was incredible. I had many beautiful days shoulder to head-high days at D-bah. The wave was the most special beach break I had ever surfed, by far. It is the definition of a bowly, A-frame. It’s a tricky wave, as the wave often comes in at a strange angle, and then wraps when it hits the sandbar. Every wave you think is going to be a left, becomes a right, and vice versa. At first, your intuition tells you the wave is going to break in one spot, but then at the last second it backs off, wraps, and then the A frame peak forms just 10 feet away from you and starts to break perfectly as long, aqua walls with a hint of green peel away on both sides.

Funnily enough, I had no idea this wave even existed let alone barreled when I first got here.  Click the photo for a link to the insta page and a little story about discovering this wave. — Funnily enough, I had no idea this wave even existed let alone barreled when I first got here. Click the photo for a link to the insta page and a little story about discovering this wave.

For days on end I would surf there in the late morning and afternoon, sharing fun, head high swell with the local rippers, Brazilian “students”, underground Japanese ex pat shredders, and the occasional Kiwi. It would definitely get crowded at times, but not having the pressure of having to catch X number of waves before work kind of mellows you out when in the lineup, and there were always enough waves for everyone if you had patience.

For a time, it was good. But, after a while, I began to get restless. Paradise can become monotonous.

The waves were fun, but eventually they got boring. After surfing on the North Shore in Hawaii, the waves in Australia seemed small. Don’t get me wrong, I love surfing perfect head high beachies with no consequences, but it felt like something was missing. I hadn’t come halfway across the world to surf a beach break, even if it was one of best ones on the planet.

Sometime during the blissful carefree weeks of surfing D-bah I had reunited with my little ex jungle explorer. Every doubt I had of coming to Australia was erased when I hugged her again for the first time, but as the dust settled, I realized that things now were going to be different. I remember watching her car drive away after that first time we hung out and I realized that it was going to take a long time to work things out between us. I was going to have to remain in Australia for a lot longer than I had expected.

Whether it was waiting for waves, or waiting for a woman, the most difficult challenge of living on the Gold Coast, was the waiting.

Luckily, I didn’t have to wait for long….

[to be continued]

PART V

Learn more

Life on the Gold Coast Pt. III / September 9, 2017 by Kevin Huang

Part III.

Settling In

I touched down in OOL after dark in a city with a population of half a million, the only person I knew being a girl I had met in the jungle 6 months prior, in a foreign country with the only belongings I had split between two suitcases and a board bag, not knowing where I was going to be living for the next few months, and having to drive a rental car on the opposite side of the road for the first time in my life.

With a deep breath and a sigh I shoved all of my earthly belongings into my tiny little rental car and hit the ignition.

Nobody ever said it was going to be easy I suppose.

The next few days were rough. I had signed up for flatmates, and I was lucky enough to find an entire three bedroom house with a big yard and a garage in Burleigh Heads. It was a nice house, in a great location, with a great price, and if I had been back home in the US there wouldn’t have been a problem. But, I just vividly remember sitting in the living room of this empty house when the enormity of just how alone I was hit me.

It’s not like I had a job lined up for me there. I couldn’t work there, and rightfully so since I was on a tourist visa. For thousands of miles in every direction I literally only knew one person. Things sort of reminded me of California, but everything was just different. The vibes were just completely different. Australia for those of you who have been there, and the Gold Coast in particular know that it’s unlike any other place on the planet. I couldn’t even call anyone, since nobody I knew back home was even awake. The way the time zones were, everyone back home was literally in a different day.

Queensland Standard Time

The infamous

I still remember just sitting on the floor, with my back against the wall, and my fingers just tapping on my knees trying to think about what the hell I was going to do. The air was still, beams of light streamed through the blinds, and it was very quiet, save for a few cars driving by in the distance. It was then that the realization that I was going to have to spend hours upon hours on end here slowly drilled itself into my brain with every tick of the clock.

I could literally hear the tick of my wrist watch it was that quiet.

I sat there against the wall for about 10 minutes. And then, without a single word, I packed everything up into my car and drove away. I never saw that house again. I only lasted one night there (if you’re reading this I’m so sorry Jen).

Luckily though, the universe took care of me and after a flurry of text messages and hurried internet browsing on my phone I ended up finding a room in a townhouse apartment on Binya Avenue in Coolangatta, just down the road from Kirra.

I had spent two years living alone back in Los Angeles and I actually loved it, but for some reason this was different. From the bottom of my heart I just knew that in Australia, on the Gold Coast, I needed to live and be surrounded by other people – and in this case those people ended up being a bunch of Slovenians.

Funnily enough, as I write this, yesterday, my friends back home in the USA were asking me what a typical stereotype of a Slovenian is, since they had never even heard of that country. Well, after two months of living in that house, I learned that wherever there’s one Slovenian, there’s at least 5 more right around the corner.

Slovenia is a tiny country in Central Europe with a population of only 2 million. Slovenia is a beautiful country, full of mountains, gorgeous valleys carved out by glaciers, and pristine lakes the likes of which would grace the cover of any travel magazine. But, unfortunately, the winters get brutally cold, and if you have any dreams of living a life other than a relatively simple one out in a log cabin (albeit a modern, incredibly comfortable, insanely well-built one) in the woods with your family, then it’s time to pack your bags and hit the road.

Because of this, there are Slovenians everywhere in the world. The first lady of the United States of America is actually a Slovenian ex-patriot, although unless another Slovenian made you privy to this information, you would never know. They are like chameleons, Slovenians. They are an incredibly kind, polite, and hard- working people, and their skin is white, so unless you stumbled upon one and specifically asked, you would never know they were Slovenian and not just your average, run of the mill backpacking European.

Australia, unlike Slovenia, is almost never brutally cold, the ocean is accessible to almost everyone, it’s extremely easy to find a job, and you can make good money there if you are willing to put in the work. The Slovenians I ended up living with, were all trying to find a way to permanently live in Australia – and they were succeeding! When I moved into the house on Binya Avenue, I essentially stumbled upon the unofficially designated Gold Coast Slovenian outpost.

The Gold Coast.... kind of like California, but no, not really.

I would be on my computer in the dining/living room editing photos when a group of Slovenians would bust through the door and usually one of them would be clearly agitated about something. What that thing was I would never know since they would almost always talk to each other in Slovenian. They would bust in the kitchen, and within a few minutes the blender would be whirring, the oven would be cooking up some incredible vegan dish, and I’d be shaking hands meeting someone’s cousin or brother or sibling who had just gotten in from Europe two days ago and was on a road trip all along the East Coast.

It was great. It was exactly what I needed. And after that first week passed, and I was able to open a bank account, get my new SIM card, buy a bicycle, stock my fridge with groceries, and finally take a second to breathe – things got much better.

And for the first time in 3 weeks, Australia sort of started to feel like home.

[ to be continued … ]

P.S.: To all of my old housemates, and your guys’ friends and family, I miss you all.

PART IV

Life on the Gold Coast saga

Life on the Gold Coast pt. II / August 15, 2017 by Kevin Huang

PROLOGUE:

Landing in Oz

I touched down in Sydney after a 12 hr flight from Honolulu and that afternoon hitched a 5 hour bus ride to Canberra (with two suitcases, and a board bag no less) where my boy AcB was living.

My boy's house in Canberra

Just imagine a cockatoo or a koala in there. It happens...

spoke to my buddy a few days ago, the grass is knee high now

Yeah, this ACTUALLY happened

That night we ended up partying till 2am (I took a cab home since AcB was still raging but it's all good) and I woke up on the couch the next morning to the sound of some girl getting railed.

So began my first day in Australia.

While I was there, so many things were happening, and I had so many things on my mind at the time, that it became difficult to really soak it all in in that moment. It wasn't until many months later (which is partly why I'm writing this blog post), that everything sort of started making sense.

I went into the country not knowing what was going to happen - I had only bought a one way ticket to Sydney. I had been granted a tourist visa which lasted for an entire year, and I could come and go as many times within the year as I pleased, but the longest I could remain in the country was three months - I had to leave and come back if I wanted to stay longer than three months.

The girl who I was chasing, I hadn't seen in about 6 months, and although I obviously cared for her, there was no telling what was going through her head now. When I made the decision to come, I figured aside from a basic overview of the country, there was only so much I could learn from the Internet, so I came with the mindset that I would just wing it (it's always more fun that way anyway). It was essentially a "show up, and see how things go" type of situation.

The first two weeks in Oz were sick. My friend AcB welcomed me in, we road tripped along the coast, and he pretty much gave me a sink or swim crash course on how to survive all manner of Australian life or death situations (VB is always the answer). I still remember freaking out with pure stoke the first time I saw a Kangaroo.

We started out going east and pretty much made our way up the New South Whales coast. It was one of those trips where the sacrifices were done properly and the wave gods came through. We would show up to perfect wave after perfect wave, sometimes with a crowd, sometimes with only one dude out, but always with enough waves for us all. Sometimes more than enough. We surfed point breaks, beachies, and reefs. To me, it all seemed normal, but my boy, who had made the pilgrimage up the coast many times, assured me that this was something special. The wave gods were indeed looking down upon us. And it was good.

the legend

But, sadly, before I knew it, I was running around the airport again, getting owned by the lady behind the ticket counter, smashed by board bag fees, and trying to catch a solo flight up to the Gold Coast. And with my heart in my throat, it was back again to reality ...

PART III

Learn more

Life on the Gold Coast Pt. I / August 2, 2017 by Kevin Huang

A U S T R A L I A

INTRO:

The Backstory

@julian_wilson absolutely shredding just before the #quicksilverpro. @hurley @redbull_surfing // Snapper Rocks — @julian_wilson absolutely shredding just before the #quicksilverpro. @hurley @redbull_surfing *// Snapper Rocks*

So, I've never had the time to sort of explain what's happened, but I'm home now, and for the first time in months I have a little down time.

My goal, for years, was set on Indo - the world's most perfect surfing playground - at least that's what surf media and the internet had convinced 15 year old me of. But, Indo is quite literally on the other side of the world. It's an exact 12 hour time difference depending on which time zone you're in. And, as it always is when traveling to the other side of the world, it's a bit of a journey.

If you look at a map, there are two ways to get there from the United States.

You either go east, or you west. You either cross the Atlantic, Europe, the Middle East, India, and you arrive in Kuala Lumpur..... or you go west, across the entire continental United States (in my case), refuel in Hawaii, and then hit KUL.

Well, it wasn't a very difficult decision whether I wanted to go to Hawaii vs the Middle East and if you're going to Hawaii then you might as well go to fucking Australia. So boom, three months later I was in Australia lol.

And of course, two really, really good friends of mine were in Australia. So it was a no brainer.

Typical scene at #snapperrocks. — *Typical scene at* *#snapperrocks*.

The Gold Coast is an interesting place.

It's the kind of place that you are lured to for reasons other than surf.

Maybe it's a new job. Maybe your family lives here. Maybe, you're tired of surfing your shitty, blown out home break and you see the opportunity for a better life in Oz. For most of the people who surf on the Gold Coast, this is their reality.

The beauty of this place is that by coming here, you are essentially stumbling upon one of the greatest wave parks on the planet.

Just pray you're not goofy.